


Help Where You Can

by remanth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Other, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7093084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a new member of the Avengers and you've been using your empathy to help the others. But there's one person who's guilt and sadness have been pricking at you and hasn't accepted your help yet: Bucky Barnes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help Where You Can

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Animesparkleluv96 over on dA.   
> Also, I am terrible at tagging things so if anyone has any suggestions as to what else this should be tagged, please let me know.

You’d felt it again during the last fight, that overwhelming guilt and sadness that was like a punch in your gut. It had nearly distracted you enough that you were almost taken down by a stray repulsor blast. You had dodged, barely, not seeing anything past the haze of the emotions hammering your mind. After that near miss, you’d blocked out the emotions as best you could, focusing on the fight and surviving it.

But now that you were back in Avengers Tower with the others, that flash of emotion was now bugging you. There were times you’d felt it before, sometimes late at night that nearly brought you to tears or during fights accompanied by a burning anger that had made you bare your teeth and growl at your foes. You’d done your best to trace the emotions back to their source, trying to find out who was feeling like this and projecting so hard. It was harder than you thought, finding the source of guilt and sadness here in the Tower. Living with a group of superheroes, especially a group that you had recently been admitted to, that felt varying levels of guilt and responsibility for innocents they couldn’t save or battles they had to fight made it difficult.

However, those flashes of emotion hadn’t been happening all that long. So maybe there was a way to narrow it down. There was another person in the Tower who’d joined the group recently, someone you felt drawn to but had pushed everyone away: Bucky Barnes. He’d been given a room right next to Steve’s and, other than Natasha, Steve was the only one he really talked to in the Tower. You’d tried to talk to him a few times, usually when you felt emotions overwhelming him. He’d politely shut you down and walked away.

Trying to make sure you were right about the source of the guilt and sadness, you decided to stroll through the Tower and check on the others. It was something you’d taken on yourself when you first became an Avenger. While you weren’t a psychiatrist, nor did you want to be, giving the others a sympathetic ear when they needed it had improved everyone’s overall morale. Besides, the negative emotions sometimes got painful for you and doing this helped ease those.

You found Tony and Bruce tinkering with something in Tony’s lab. They were arguing good-naturedly over power levels, words tumbling from their lips with an impressive speed. You smiled at Tony as he waved and nodded at Bruce. They were both feeling good, satisfaction a warm balm to your empathic senses. They didn’t need your help right now and you didn’t want to interrupt their work so you headed on. The slapping sound of punches and thunking noises drew you to the gym next.

In the boxing ring, Clint, Natasha, and Steve squared off against each other. They seemed to be fighting in a free-for-all, though every once in a while two would team up against the third. All three were sweaty but grinning, a fierce joy in exercising their bodies lighting up their emotions. A smug certainty emanated from Natasha and you got the feeling she was winning this round. You laughed as she flipped Clint over one shoulder, a breath huffing out of his mouth as he landed on his back. The guilt and sadness wasn’t coming from them, not this time.

A shivery warmth drew you upstairs and you saw Vision and Wanda talking and laughing while sitting on her bed in her room. The shivery warmth was attraction and both felt it towards the other. As Wanda let out a quiet laugh and brushed her hair back behind her ear, you felt a swooping feeling in your belly from Vision. You walked on, feeling like you were intruding on a private moment. You smiled, though, happy for both of them.

“Hey, what are you up to?” Sam’s voice called from his own bedroom as you passed by. “Wanna see my new pet? His name’s Redwing.”

“You have a pet?” you asked, stopping outside Sam’s room and leaning against the doorframe. “What is it? You finally get a dog?”

“Nope, even better,” Sam replied, grinning widely as he held up the little drone he’d been studying. Pride emanated from him as he showed off the drone. “Redwing, this is our teammate. Say hi.”

The little drone lifted off from Sam’s hands and hovered in midair. It bobbled its wings at you and you waved back. Then it settled back down into Sam’s hands, light as a feather. The pride grew even stronger as Sam put the little drone carefully onto his bed.

“What do you think?” Sam asked, patting the top of Redwing. “He’s useful too, not just cute. He’ll be a great asset in fights.”

“I think he’s cute,” you reply. “Can’t wait to see what he can do.”

“I’m sure it won’t be long,” Sam replied drolly. “But you look like you had something in mind. I should let you get back to it.”

“Thanks, have fun with Redwing, Sam,” you say and head down the hallway. You listen to Sam murmuring to the drone and hold back a giggle. He really loves the thing and it really is adorable.

Another wave of guilt and sadness flows over you suddenly as you reach the end of the hallway. This is where Steve and Bucky’s rooms are and that confirms what you thought. You stop for a moment, resting a hand on the wall to help you keep your balance. The guilt hammers at you while the sadness oozes into the corners of your mind. You have to fight hard against them, echoes of memories and feelings you had yourself bubbling up below the force of Bucky’s emotions. You press the nails of your other hand against your palm just hard enough to recall you to your body, remind you that you are separate from the emotions you’re feeling.

As you remind yourself you’ve moved on from your own sorrows, you slowly catch your breath. The guilt and sadness emanating from behind the closed door doesn’t abate but you are able to let the emotions pass through you now. You aren’t mired in them, losing the present. When you feel steady again, you take a deep breath and knock on Bucky’s door.

“Go away,” a harsh voice calls from inside.

“I just want to talk, Bucky,” you reply, letting your sympathy and friendliness thread through your voice and reach him. The guilt and sadness lessens a bit as your projected emotions wash over him. “And something tells me you need to talk.”

“No,” Bucky calls though he doesn’t sound as sure this time. “Not now.”

“I want to help you,” you persist, laying a hand on the door as if that would help you get closer. “I’ve been in a similar place, I know the sorrow. Let me help. Please?”

There’s silence on the other side of the door for several long moments. You wait with bated breath, hoping that Bucky will open the door. He’s been letting the guilt and sadness eat away at him for too long. Much longer and that will be what he’ll become. You’ve almost lost yourself too, the sorrow and self-hate burning inside you and stripping away everything you loved. Just when you’re about to give up and your hand drops away from the door, footsteps sound inside, moving closer. The door opens and Bucky steps back, inviting you inside without a word.

You step inside and he closes the door behind you. His face is closed, a studious blankness covering the emotions you can still feel raging inside him. He gestures to a chair as he drops down onto the bed, his shoulders hunched in on himself, his elbows on his knees, and his hands hanging lax. You settle into the chair after drawing it a little closer to the bed. The silence stretches between both of you as you study him. There are dark circles around Bucky’s eyes and his face looks pale, as if he isn’t getting enough sleep.

“So, you think you can help?” Bucky asks suddenly, his voice a hoarse whisper. He looks up at you, anger and a faint hope warring in his eyes. “You think you can just say a few word and _fix_ what I’m feeling?”

As you open your mouth to reply, a sudden burst of rage overwhelms you. You gasp, one hand flying to your throat as if you were being choked. The rage burns through your mind, so very strong that for a few moments, rage is all you know. The guilt and sadness is there too, weaving in and out of the rage. You catch your breath again, tears glimmering in your eyes. Oh yes, you know these feelings all too well.

“I don’t think a few words can fix you,” you reply quietly, leaning forward in your chair in emphasis. “But I do think talking and getting those emotions out, where you can examine them, can help. Otherwise, you’ll spiral further and further down, the guilt and sorrow becoming all you are.”

“You said you were in a similar place,” Bucky says, looking away as the anger drains out of your mind. He doesn’t continue but you can hear the unspoken question.

“Yeah, a while back,” you nod. Memories bubble up again, memories you can examine now without pain. It had taken a long time to get where you are now, to let go of your own sorrow, but you were happy you had. And the memories couldn’t drag you back, not anymore. “You want to hear my story?”

At Bucky’s slow nod, you start at the beginning. You don’t spare yourself in the telling, letting the emotions you feel wash over you and, to a lesser extent, project to him. As you speak, he relaxes and watches you. His emotions fade away a little as he concentrates on what you’re saying and projecting. You feel a quick flash of affection that you try not to project. You aren’t sure how successful you are; this is about him and his hurts not about you. You pass by that flash quickly, looking down at your hands for a moment. That causes you to miss the quirking of one eyebrow and the calculating look in his eyes.

“So that’s my story,” you say, smiling at Bucky. “While my reasons aren’t the same as yours, the emotions were similar. I’ve been where you are and I’ve gotten out. I want to help you do the same.”

Bucky stares at you for a few moments, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips. You wait, holding your breath and hoping that finally he’ll trust you. He reaches out, taking your hand gently in his metal one. He holds your hand delicately then leans down to press a kiss to the knuckles. You catch your breath, surprised, as you comb through the emotions he’s feeling automatically. The guilt and sadness are still there, along with the anger, but they are smaller and further away than they were. But what surprises you is the affection and attraction that Bucky’s feeling for you.

“I think you might actually be able to help,” Bucky says, the ghost of a smile becoming a full smile. It brightens his face and, for a moment, you can see the carefree man he used to be. And hopefully can be again. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “Anything you need, I’m here.”

Though Bucky doesn’t tell you everything that first time, the walls have come down. He doesn’t drop your hand while he hesitantly talks a bit about his past, nor do you make any move to take your hand away. You leave his room after he charms a promise out of you to go for coffee sometime, out of the Tower. For now, it’s enough and he feels happier than he’s been in a while. So do you.


End file.
